Bright Like a Star

Please oh please don't shoot me! Things will get a little better next chapter, but this is how it had to be for now. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this new chapter, and I will attempt to get the next one out soon.

I would like to thank: Jadey- Thank you for your compliements. Also, you are correct with your definition of schadenfreude, it is good to know I am not the only one with random interesting facts running through my poor mind. Sarkywoman- Thanks for your nice complements, I appreciate the review. Final thanks goes to Harui- You have stayed with me so far, so I am encouraged that I am at least doing something right. Your constant reviews have kept my spirit up in writing this, and your continued support will insure that more chapters make their way out to be read and enjoyed. Thanks a bunch!!!!!!


Part 4: Pain and Respite


Aragorn paced warily, his thoughts occupied by his beautiful elf, who now lay in agony in the next room. His best healer had been in his personal chambers with Legolas for a long time now, and the man couldn’t help but think the worst. Aragorn himself had barely not left his post at the door, until Faramir, his steward, had all but forced him to eat a small meal and to bathe. Finally, to Aragorn’s relief, and the relief of everyone else who had had to deal with the king’s temper since their return, the healer emerged, a grim, but satisfied smile upon his face. Aragorn, the king of men, did not even wait to hear the healer’s words, before he rushed into the room, his eyes lighting on the bed where his lover lay. At first, he was not sure if Legolas was awake, but as he drew nearer to the bed, he could see the awareness in the cerulean eyes.

“Legolas?” he whispered, unsure if his eyes were deceiving him, andin truth, his lover lay dead upon the sheets. The elf turned to him, his face pale from pain and fatigue.

“Aragorn.” The elf whispered, his hand reaching out to draw the man to him. “For a moment I was so scared,” the elf whispered, his words trembling, “I was so afraid. I saw my long life pass before my eyes, but it was the memory of your face that kept me here. I stayed so that I may stay with you.”

“Shh, Aragorn soothed, slightly disturbed by his lover’s words, they were uncharacteristic of the elven prince.

“Aragorn, I…” suddenly Legolas convulsed, and his back arched painfully, causing his hair to play wildly on the pillow. Aragorn jerked back in shock, before turning to the healer who was standing back, watching the scene with emotionless eyes.

“What is going on?” he hissed, his hands itching to find something and squeeze all the life from it.

“I tried to explain earlier, sir, but it seems that the blade that cut him was very heavily poisoned with a substance unlike anything I have ever seen. He has been convulsing like this for some time, and I fear that if something is not done, his body will not be capable of withstanding these convulsions.” Fear gripped Aragorn’s heart as he heard the physician’s words. He and Legolas had only been bound for so short a time, and now he was faced with the prospect oosinosing everything that had become dear to him.

“Is there anything you can do? There must be some way to heal him of this poison?” Aragorn’s voice sha shaking, and it took all of strength to keep the emotion from his voice.

“There is a way m’lord, unfortunately, you would, in some sense, still loose him.”

“What do you mean?” Aragorn asked, his voice now wary.

“I have a drought that I can give him. It was put him into a deep sleep that should ease his pain and keep the poison at bay until a proper antidote can be found.”

“And will he be able to wake from his sleep?”

“I am afraid not, not unless he is given a special potion that only I have access to. To attempt to wake him without it could put him right back into the situation he is in now before the poison kills him.” A strange look of defeat befell the kings features, before he nodded to the healer, passing his consent for his lover to be given the potion. He knew, oh how he knew, that this was almost worse that having the fair elf dead. He would always be faced with the possibility that his lover would wake, would once again be in his arms, but every day that he saw Legolas in his peaceful, eternal sleep, he would break a little bit more.

“Do it.” He reinforced his nod with the words that would seal his fate, and the fate of his lover, and then he was gone, unable to look at the elf laid out on his bed, unable to be faced with the reality of what he had ordered to be done.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Aragorn woke with a groan; the feeling of not getting much needed rest plagued his body and left his movements heavy and uncoordinated. Finally, he managed to drag himself from his cold, empty bed, only to sit at the edge, staring into the past at a memory of Legolas, at the way his lover would press gentle kisses to his neck and shoulders, while his hands would work at the knots in his back. He remembered how they would get caught up in their passionate embraces, until one of them would playfully start a tickling fight that would leave them both breathless and more in love. They had only been married a week before the accident had occurred, but during that time, he had become so used to the gentle, serene presence of his lover, and the sudden absence of the elf left him feeling bereft. With a sigh, he worked his way into his kingly finery, before grabbing his crown and walking out of the door. He didn’t place the crown on his head though, he held it tightly in his grasp until he found himself at the entrance of a small room. Here, he placed his crown on a small table outside of the door; he would not wear a crown in this room, in this room he was no king, but simply a man with all the emotions and all the burdens of a man.

A breeze through his hair up when he entered this room, for there were no solid walls here, nothing to keep out the elements that his lover was so in tuned with. There was no finery in here, and in fact, the only thing at all that stood in this room was a raised dais upon with his elf lover lay, his body arranged carefully on the platform while his golden hair spread about his face, touched only gently by swe sweet northern wind that shivered inside the room.

“Oh Legolas,” he whispered, as he drew nearer in his daily ritual of greeting his sleeping lover. Every day he would pray that the healer would come forth with something, anything to put the elf back in his arms, the put some emotion into the unseeing eyes, or a smile on the petal soft lips, but everyday only brought about pain when there was nothing. With every saddened shake of the healer’s head, a part of Aragorn’s heart broke.

Finally, unable to be in the room, any longer, he fled from the room, only slowing the take his crown into his hands before he made it to his throne room. When he made it into the room, it took all of his energy to put up with the rituals of being king, all the false smiles and petty problems that people begged him to solve. He wasn’t sure why this day was so difficult for him, but he felt so restless. He wanted nothing more than to simple be Strider, a ranger from the north whose only problem was to decide where he would spend the night. Alas, those days were gone. Now he lived in a world of dull gray walls and fake smiles when the one smile he so desperately needed to see was absent. It had been almost two months, and even after so short a time, his despair was almost too much for him to bear. He had, of course, sent letters both to Mirkwood and to Imladris, but so far, he had yet to receive a reply, and that only made his mood worse, for surely their families would care enough to at least send a letter of condolences.


~~~~~~~


Aragorn closed his eyes in relief when he managed to finally excuse himself from dinner. Today had been too long, and he was feeling nothing but exhaustion, so he was surprised when he suddenly ran into som. He. He jerked back in surprise as he took in the young woman who had fallen to the ground upon their impact.

“Are you all right Miss?” he asked, as he offered his hand to her. The girl blushed faintly before nodding and taking his hand. She managed to get almost to her feed before she fell back down with a small whimper of pain. Instantly concerned that he had hurt her, Aragorn knelt to the floor to inspect her right ankle which she was cradling protectively.

“I fear that it may be broken,” she whispered, pulling her skirt up a little too indecently, though Aragorn seemed not to notice. “Perhaps you could take me to your rooms where you could look at it under a proper light. I don’t think that the healer is to be found within the castle walls at this time. Aragorn nodded absently, and easily picked the woman off of the floor and brought her to his chambers where he sat her gently on the couch. Carefully, Aragorn removed her dainty shoe and studied her ankle, pressing gently at various points.

“I do not think that it is broken, however, it may be sprained. You should see the healer when you have the chance, but until then, be careful to not put pressure on it. At the girls nod, he moved to find a servant to escort her to her room, but he was stopped by an insistent grip on his arm.

“Please, my lord, I must thank you for your kindness,” she whispered as she moved her hands to the ties of her dress. Fear bubbled in his breast when he realized what her words meant, and he reached his hand to stop her, but his hand was easily batted away. And in that moment, Aragorn forgot Legolas, forgot everything but the pain eating at his heart. He only knew the feeling of being touched, held by someone, anyone. All his protests died as she carefully divested them of their clothes, so that her hands could feel along his body. He was only himself long enough to protest her movements to the bedroom. Not there, that was his place with Legolas, but even those thoughts fled him as she fell to the couch, bringhim him on top of her. ‘Oh sweet agony,’ he thought as he fell to sensation.